


8 Maids A-Milking

by Percygranger



Series: The 12 Days of Kinkmas [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hucow, Milking, POV John Watson, castration mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percygranger/pseuds/Percygranger
Summary: John spends some time on the farm.(Originally written in 2014)
Relationships: Greg Lestrade & John Watson
Series: The 12 Days of Kinkmas [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/156215
Kudos: 12





	8 Maids A-Milking

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags. There's a reason it took me six years to feel somewhat comfortable posting this.

John squeezed a teat, checking its fullness. The cow mooed lowly, shuffling what little she could in her stall. John chuckled and patted the flank nearest him. 

“Shh, now. I’ll be there in just a second.”

Deciding the cow had enough milk to give, John shifted the stool to a comfortable place, placed a pail underneath the swinging teats, and sat. He applied lotion to his hands, and then set to work, firmly gripping and pulling the nipple down, alternating hands for the most efficient pace. The lotion was liquid and slippery, but it would hardly do to let his cow get chapped teats! Each motion squirted a bit of milk into the pan. The cow lowed again, but John ignored it. Many cows were uncomfortable at first. This one would get used to it. 

He settled into a rhythm, relishing the physical nature of the work and the sweet smell of fresh milk intermingling with the other scents of the stall. The cow settled down after about five minutes, loud moos changing to the occasional indistinct grunt. 

This kind of work took time, something John appreciated. The repetition of it gave him time to think, and the closeness to another being held a certain comfort. Humans were noisy and distracting, but cows were easy to manage, as long as you knew how. 

Eventually the first side ran dry, so John walked around and resettled himself on the other, repeating the process of checking, adjusting, moisturizing, and setting to work. He’d timed this before. Milking took about an hour per session, twice a day. But mostly he was content to let the time pass without marking it. It was peaceful here. So much so that sometimes he wished he were a proper farmer.

When the last few pulls managed nothing, John let his hands relax. He rose and stretched, groaning as the muscles complained and his back cracked. Swinging his hands and arms, he walked a few paces beside the cow before returning for the milk. He carried it to the end of the stall where glass jars were waiting. He poured his liquid treasure in. The sight and splash of several ounces of milk made him smile. It’d taken a while to get this much from this particular cow, but the work had been worth it. 

Finally, he turned back to his beast. Walking forward, he trailed a soothing hand on her back until he reached her head, which was secured with a harness and rope. 

“Such a good cow.” He crooned, petting her head. She stared at him, glassy-eyed, but leaned into his hand. John smiled and unbuckled the ropes keeping her still. 

“C’mon, now. Time for you to rest and graze and fill those pretty teats right back up again.” John pulled the cow up, and led her out of the stall, a few fingers hooked into her harness. The cow stumbled a bit, but found her feet and started walking, heeding John’s firm, gentle pull. 

John led the cow to her pen. He gave her her head once she was inside, and shut the gate, latching it carefully. The cow stood still for several seconds, then ambled off towards the herd, teats bouncing slightly with each step.

“She’s taken to her role splendidly, I must say.” Lestrade commented, coming up to lean against the fence that separated the animals from the people. 

John smiled. “Molly was always a good one, no matter what she did. How’re Donovan and Anderson coming along?”

Lestrade hocked, aiming at the grass. “Fair to middling. Donovan is really quite suited to being a show horse. She’s almost stepping high enough now. Anderson…well, it didn’t suit. I put in a request he be moved over here. We’re starting injections tomorrow.” 

John hummed thoughtfully. “Well, as long as he’s properly fixed, I don’t have a problem with it.” 

“No worries about that!” Lestrade laughed. “That’s the first thing you do with geldings, after all.” 

“Right, right. God, I’m starved, dinner?” 

“Don’t mind if I do.” 

They turned and headed towards the house, leaving the herd behind. 


End file.
